Chapter 34
CY
They’re gone.
I’d like to say the decision to stop filming was a difficult one.
It wasn’t.
After I made it clear to Mara that I would not be continuing with the show, I called Rhett.
Told him that he needed to get me out of the contract.
I had a pretty good idea that doing so meant Beneath the Broken Sky wouldn’t happen.
And an even stronger understanding that I can no longer turn down a Boys Next Door reunion tour.
Might as well do it and face all my ghosts at once.
Production and the remaining women packed up and headed for Austin that same day. They stayed there overnight before flying back to California.
Just in case, Mara said.
Only just in case wasn’t going to happen.
She’s gone.
She was by the time I rode back to the barn. But since I didn’t head for the main house and didn’t look at my phone, I learned that from Rio, who heard it from Mama.
I rode back from Sunset Canyon—the namesake for the ranch—but after finding out that I had fallen for a liar, a woman who’d been paid to be here, I couldn’t go back to the main house.
At first, I stayed away because I didn’t want to run into her.
I didn’t want her to try to convince me that I could believe anything she said.
More like you didn’t want to cave.
But since I spent most of the day at the canyon, that wasn’t a problem. She’d gone off into the sunset—even if it was only midafternoon—as soon as she finished stomping my heart into the dirt.
Once I knew I didn’t have to avoid her, I stayed away to avoid three other things.
The questions about my heartbreak.
Facing Josie and Jade.
And the memories of Sydney that would probably echo through the ranch from now until forever.
Why couldn’t I have fallen for Josie and Jade? They were both here for the right reasons.
Sydney was here to protect you. How is that wrong?
I ignore that question.
Were you here for the right reasons?
I signed on to get my movie made and to avoid a reunion tour.
Not exactly noble.
Even if it stings to admit that.
Luckily, I found a fifth of Jack Daniels in a cabinet in my brothers’ kitchen. I used that to ease the sting last night.
Unfortunately, it’s caused me nothing but misery this morning. My mouth is an extra-dry cotton ball, the couch beneath me lumpy, and the sun shining in through the window an extra bright punch in the face given the hangover riding shotgun with my heartbreak.
The sun is relatively high and the house is still, so my brothers are probably all gone for the day, doing who knows what God knows where.
Good. If they were here, they’d want to give me shit. It’s what they did last night. At least the part of the night I remember.
Assholes.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table next to me, the sound of it vibrating against the wood is like a thousand hammers rattling in my head.
Fuck.
I reach for it blindly, begging the noise to stop so I can fall back asleep, only to fall off the couch onto the floor.
“Because apparently I haven’t suffered enough,” I grumble from my prone position.
Another buzz. Louder from this angle.
The universe fucking hates me. Dammit.
With the speed of a sloth, I sit up and lean against the couch. Then I reach for the phone to silence the hammers.
Fuck, I feel like I’m going to be sick. Breathing deeply, I tilt my head back and search for the energy to actually crack open an eye. When I do, the sunlight is blinding, and I immediately wish I hadn’t.
“The least they could have done is close the curtains,” I growl, blinking rapidly to adjust to the brightness of the room.
But my brothers probably made sure they were wide open before they left.
Once my eyes finally adjust, I look down at the phone to find a missed phone call from Rhett and a text notification from Mama.
“Let’s start with the good news,” I mumble, tapping on the voicemail from Rhett.
“I’ve talked to Featherlight’s lawyers and managed to smooth over their ruffled feathers,” he says. “Call me back. I need to talk to you about the tour.”
Great.
“Maybe later,” I tell my phone. Next I brace myself and open the text from Mama.
The message from Mama is longer that Rhett’s voicemail. A lot longer. Apparently, she trimmed her ranting down for Rio. I’m not so lucky. For me, she didn’t pull any punches.
MAMA
I’d love to know what made you forget everything I taught you growing up. I don’t know what you said to Sydney and I don’t think I want to. When she left here with you she was a woman in love.
I snort a laugh, and pain slices through my skull. Dammit. That’s fucking rich. She doesn’t love me. She was being paid to pretend she did.
But Mama’s text isn’t done.
MAMA
The woman who came back without you was not the same person.
I doubt that.
MAMA
Now, let’s talk about you. I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of you since you left. So when that producer lady came back and started packing, I had no idea what was going on. They were hellbent for leather to Austin within an hour. Never mind that I had already started dinner for that massive crew.
Shit. I’m going to have to make that up to her.
MAMA
And those two sweet young ladies—they didn’t deserve your callous behavior either.
They thanked me for my hospitality and told me what a nice time they had, but they were obviously upset.
I don’t understand you, Cyrus James. First, you decide to do a TV dating show when the last time I asked you about settling down, you told me you weren’t ready.
Then the show insists on filming here. Then you blow up the whole thing for reasons unbeknownst to any of us.
You’ve upset a lot of people in the last twenty-four hours, me included.
You’ve shirked your responsibilities, you’ve hurt people, and now you’re playing a victim.
I don’t have to play at being one since Sydney lied to me. I just didn’t have the heart to lie to Jade and Josie. Isn’t that supposed to be the honorable thing to do?
MAMA
Your brothers told me at breakfast that you were passed out at their place after getting drunker than a skunk.
I would suggest you stay down there until you’re ready to do some apologizing.
Should you decide to come here, I will be reorganizing the kitchen and hammering nails into the walls to hang pictures.
Fuck. She’d do it too. I know better than to test my luck by going home. Even though a hot shower and new clothes sound amazing.
MAMA
I am not happy with you, Cyrus. I love you, but I am not happy.
Join the club. I should be happy. I want to be happy.
Then why aren’t you?
With a groan, I stand. My legs wobble as I stumble to the kitchen for a glass of water and aspirin. After the water and medicine don’t immediately come back up, I decide to brave a cup of coffee from what’s left in the coffee maker and heat it up in the microwave.
The sunlight hits me like a right hook as I take my coffee outside, but I fight the urge to throw up and head for the darkness of the barn and the sympathetic ear of my horse. Only Echo is busy with Gramps.
“Morning, Gramps,” I say quietly, not wanting to irritate the headache that’s finally starting to loosen its grip on my temples.
He keeps his attention on the horse, holding out a carrot for him. The only acknowledgment I get is a grunt.
I shuffle in next to him and scratch Echo’s nose. The silence between us should feel comfortable. It always has before. But right now it’s suffocating.
“You okay?” I ask. Maybe he slept like shit too.
You slept like shit because you drank a fifth of Jack. You deserve it.
He pulls another carrot from his pocket, ignoring my question.
“You okay, Gramps?” I ask, louder, in case he didn’t hear me.
This time he looks at me.
Instantly, I wish he hadn’t.
The disappointment is clear in the downturn of his eyes, in the frown lines that bracket a mustache that usually twitches with humor.
“Heard you the first time,” he grumbles.
Gramps and I have always had an amazing relationship. Besides Echo and Remy, he knew me better than anyone else. But the man next to me is a stranger. Worse, I’m a stranger who kicked his puppy. He’s far from young. Has dementia kicked in? No one has mentioned it to me.
“Did you already feed Buck?” I ask.
He nods. He’s never one to mince words, so his silence shouldn’t be this disconcerting.
But it is.
“Are you feeling okay? Can I get you something?”
“Nope.”
Thanks, Gramps. That’s super helpful.
“Care to elaborate?” I ask, sarcasm dripping from my words.
I know better. I really do. I’m going to blame the hangover from hell and the heartbreak.
Legitimate excuses or not, they don’t stop him from smacking me upside the head hard enough to make my ears ring.
Hangover, meet Gramps.
“Fuck, what was that for?” I ask, rubbing at the pain that radiates from the base of my skull and clamors in my temples.
“That’s for being a damn idiot, grandson.”
“Did you talk to Mama or something? Fuck, that hurt.”
“You’re lucky your mama ain’t around to hear that kind of language. Grown or not, she knows where the soap is.”
Shit. The last thing I want is to add the taste of soap to my iffy stomach. So I suck my lips in and clamp my teeth down on them.
“As I was sayin’. You’re a damned fool. And no I didn’t talk to your mama. I saw firsthand the heartbreak in that girl’s eyes. I have half a mind to take you over my knee,” he says.
I scoff. What the fuck? Is Sydney some kind of Darby family whisperer?
Mama. Gramps.
You.
I think if Mama and Gramps had their way, she would still be here and I would be gone.
“She lied, Gramps.” Even to me, the excuse sounds flimsy.
He huffs. “You’re tellin’ me you’re a saint?”
“No, but—”
“Sydney is your soulmate, boy. If you wanna do somethin’ for me, then pull your head out of your ass and go get that girl. Before someone smarter than you does.”
With that said, he turns on his heel, boots scuffling down the aisle.
When he’s gone, Echo nudges my back.
“You too, huh? You’re wrong. You both are,” I tell the horse.
Gramps is wrong.
Sydney isn’t my soulmate. How can someone I don’t even know be the person I’m meant to be with?